


Breathing Comes In Pairs

by 2012bookworm



Series: Drive All Night [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2012bookworm/pseuds/2012bookworm
Summary: This time, it's Nursey who gets the phone call in the middle of the night.





	Breathing Comes In Pairs

**Author's Note:**

> See end for content warnings.
> 
> Title from "Enough for Now" by The Fray

Nursey's phone goes off in the middle of the night, and Will groans, burying his face in his pillow.

“Why.” He grumbles, just loud enough that Nursey will hear him. 

He hears Nursey knocking around and muttering something unintelligible below him before the phone goes blessedly silent. He sighs and is staring to drift back off when it rings again. 

“Derek…” He moans, “Turn it off.”

Nursey apparently decides to answer the damn thing because he hears a mumbled, “'Lo?” Then, “Mom?”

Will lifts his head up at the way Nursey's voice has turned sharp and awake.

“Home. In bed. Why? What's going on?” There's a break in the conversation before Nursey's breathless, “What? How? I mean…. Oh. Well. Um. I don't…Wednesday? Ok. I'll…I'll be there. Yeah, love you too.”

Will peers over the side of the bunk, squinting in the dark. “Nursey? Everything ok? Nurse?”

“I…my dad's dead.” Nursey says, voice devoid of tone.

The words have barely registered before Will's scrambling down to the floor, stopping short when he sees Nursey sitting up in bed, scarily still, staring down at the phone clutched in one hand. He doesn't know what to do, or say, or how to fix this. Nursey and his dad weren't close, not… but still. Will has to do something. He takes in the way Nursey's hand is clenched around his phone and creeps into the bed, slow, careful, and gently pries it out of his fingers, half afraid he'll break something. Nursey's hands are trembling, unnoticeable but for the fact that Will is holding one in his palm, rubbing a thumb across the tendons, trying to get the muscles to relax. They do just long enough for Will to lace their fingers together and then Nursey's squeezing his hand with painful force. Will does his best to squeeze back. 

Nursey finally turns to look at him, coming back from whatever place he went to in his head. “I…. Will.”

“Hey, hey, I'm here, I've got you.” He murmurs, his free hand going to the back of Nursey's neck. “I've got you.”

Nursey makes a noise, half-moan, half-sob, and collapses forward on to Will's chest, their clasped hands caught between them. Will runs his hand up and down Nursey's back as he shakes, trying to walk himself through the next steps. They'll need to email professors, explain they'll be missing class - or will Nursey even want him there? Nursey's relationship with his father is - was - complicated, always has been, considering they didn't meet in person until Nursey was nearly twelve, and even after that he's rarely around, but it's still his dad, and Will can't imagine, doesn't want to imagine, what he's feeling. Maybe he'll want to be alone, not have to deal with his sort-of new, sort-of secret boyfriend at the same time as his dad's new family, a wife and daughter Nursey doesn't talk about.

Nursey starts pulling away, the full-body shakes reduced to tremors. His eyes are dry and far away. “We're not telling anyone.”

“What?” Will says, louder than he meant to this late. He's willingly to, reluctantly, let Nursey go to his father's funeral alone, but he is not ok with Nursey trying to hide this from the team, or really just Chowder and Bitty, both of whom are actually good at emotions. “Why?”

“I can't - “ Nursey shakes his head, tightens his grip on the hand he's still holding. Will fights back a wince. “I can't deal with it. The sympathy, the looks… the everything. I just can't. I don't - I don't know what to feel, Dex. How - how am I supposed to be sad, or grieve, or what the fuck ever if they're all looking at me like I -”

He stops, looks at Will helplessly. And he gets it, the team can be overwhelming in their sympathy, their awkward need to help, to prove that they were there for you. It makes even him tired sometimes and he's used to an overabundance of concerned friends and family. Nursey's not. Will sighs, gives up for the moment, and resolves to convince Nursey to at least tell Chowder later. “How are we explaining our sudden absence?”

“I… you're coming with me?” Nursey asks, sounding way too vulnerable for Will's peace of mind.

“Of course. Idiot.” Will squeezes his hand. “You don't have to be alone, remember.”

“Right.” Nursey whispers. He hesitates for a moment, before burying his face in Will's neck. Will holds him.

They sit there for a while, quiet except for their breathing. Will blinks against his exhaustion. If they just tell the team 'family emergency' no one will question it, but he's not sure how far Nursey wants to take this, if he wants to pretend nothing is wrong, or just be vague about the specifics.

“Stay down here tonight? Please?” Nursey murmurs into his skin.

There are reasons they've been sleeping in separate beds, only one of which is the fact that a twin bed is not meant for two people, especially two large hockey players, but that doesn't matter tonight. Will leans them over until they're flat on the bed, and wriggles until his back is against the wall and Nursey is curled up against his front. Nursey lets out a heavy sigh and moves closer, sliding a leg in between Will's. He'll probably end up sprawled on top of Will again by morning, not that he particularly minds. The tremors are almost gone now, though he's still got Will's hand in a death grip, and Will's resigned himself to waking up with it completely asleep. He runs his other hand up and down Nursey's back until his breath evens out, not quite enough for sleep, but probably as close as he'll get tonight. Tomorrow, they'll figure out when they're leaving, what classes and practices they'll have to miss, and Will's going to call his parents just to hear their voices, but for now, the rise and fall of Nursey's rib against his hand is enough to let him doze off.

***

“You should at least tell Bitty.” Will argues the next morning as they walk to practice. “He's the captain. You don't have to tell him what's going on, just that something is.”

“No.” Nursey says, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

“Nurse…”

“He'd get all concerned, and insist on making me pie, and then everyone would know, and what if he wants to bench me? I've been off the ice for enough stupid stuff this year.”

“Bitty wouldn't bench you. And getting hurt is not stupid.” Will says, worry coming out as exasperation. Nursey just ducks his head and walks faster. “Just…think about it, ok?”

Nursey jerks his head in a nod. They don't speak the rest of the way to the rink, and they skip their usual locker room banter. Chowder notices, but doesn't say anything, just looks between them and raises his eyebrows at Will, who shakes his head. That's good enough for now, but Will knows one, or probably both of them, will get cornered later and kindly interrogated.

Will keeps an eye on Nursey as they practice, noting the way he's playing a bit harder than normal, pushing himself, slamming himself into the boards to try and steal the puck. He wonders if he should risk pulling Bitty aside and telling him something's wrong. He wonders if Nursey would ever forgive him if he did. He wonders if it would keep Nursey from hurting himself.

Afterwards, Nursey's gone before Will gets out of the showers, neatly preventing any more arguments about telling people, but Chowder's waiting for him.

“Hi Dex! Annie's?” He asks cheerfully. 

“Sure.” Will says, resigned to his fate. He grabs his bag and follows Chowder out of Faber.

They get to Annie's and Will sends Chowder to grab a table while he waits for their drinks. Chowder's declared it finally cold enough to get hot chocolate, but Will sticks with his usual black coffee. It takes Will a moment to work his way through the mess of tables and pushed out chairs to reach the table Chowder found, and he spends the time deciding just how much he's willing to say.

“Extra whipped cream, just like you asked.” He tells C, dropping the hot chocolate in front of him and sitting down.

Chowder practically inhales the thing, half of the cup gone before he puts it down and lets out a contented sigh.

“You know, they make hot chocolate all year round.” Will points out dryly. It's hilarious to him the way Chowder insists drinks have seasons.

“But then it wouldn't be special!” Chowder protests. “Besides, it tastes better when it's cold.”

Will sips at his coffee. “Whatever you say, C.” 

They look up as the bell over the door rings and a group of girls come in. Before Will can come up with some kind of conversational topic, Chowder takes a deep breath and asks, “Hey Dex, is something wrong?”

“I'm fine.” He replies automatically.

Chowder rightfully ignores that. “Are you and Nursey fighting? And like, really fighting, not just chirping.”

Will looks at Chowder's face, the furrow in between his brows, the way he's half biting his lip, and realizes he won't be able to brush this off. Chowder knows about him and Nursey, the only one on the team who does, the only one besides Sarah (and probably Shitty) who knows at all. 

“We're not fighting. Well, not more than normal.” Will amends, thinking of their argument this morning. “It's just… family shit.”

“Yours or his?” Chowder asks, sympathy in his eyes, and Will wonders how much Nursey told him about the part of the summer they spent in Maine, pretending they weren't dating because Will didn't want to explain 'boyfriend' to his parents while said boyfriend was sleeping in his room.

“His. It's…” Will hesitates, shakes his head. “If you want to know, ask him. I told him I wouldn't tell anybody.”

“Ok.” Chowder drinks more of his hot chocolate. “If… if you guys need anything, let me know?”

“Yeah.” Dex says, smiling at him. “Thanks, C.”

***

They drive down to New York that night, after Nursey's evening seminar. It's quiet, and Will finds himself reluctant to even turn the radio up, like the quiet is an important part of the grieving process, or something. Nursey doesn't fall asleep - Will knows what he looks like, asleep, and this isn't it - but he closes his eyes and goes still for most of the drive. Will focuses on the road, plays car games with himself, runs over that bit of code he can't figure out, trying to picture it in his head. He doesn't let himself think about where they're going.

Nursey had finally told the team that he had to go to New York for a family emergency, mostly because he needed an excuse for missing practice. Granted, he texted it to Bitty and Ford from the car as they left Samwell rather than saying anything in person, but Will was glad for at least that much. He didn't understand why Nursey was so reluctant to tell anyone, but he'd decided not to push too hard. Maybe it was denial, or some kind of shock state. Maybe it was just that Nursey kept most things to himself. He's positive that no one on the team would have known anything about Nursey's accident over the summer until they got back to school if that girl hadn't called him.

And Will gets it, he does. The team is gossipy and nosy to a fault, and privacy isn't something they're great at, but there's keeping things private and there's not letting anyone in, and what Nursey's doing feels like the latter. Will wonders if Nursey would have even told him what was going on if he hadn't heard the phone ring, or if he would have just left with a vague excuse and returned a few days later pretending everything was fine.

Most of the things, the real things, Will knows about Nursey he's learned from casual mentions in throwaway conversations, like the fact that he often babysits his half sister when he's home, or that he's terrified of guns, or that his grandparents both died within a few months of each other the year he turned thirteen. Information dropped in casually, while chatting during team breakfast or taking a break from studying in the library, all said like it doesn't matter, like it happened to someone else.

As if the deep parts of himself are unimportant. 

It's worrying, partially because it means that Nursey, even after the summer, doesn't trust that Will wants to know him, would be there for him. And that's not good for a relationship that Will desperately wants to last. Nursey wants him, the sex makes that much obvious, but in the end it may not be enough, when Will wants a relationship built on more than just mutual desire. And he's afraid, so afraid, that he's more invested in this than Nursey, that he'll end up heartbroken and hurting and alone.

Nursey shifts when Will pulls over to get gas just past New Haven. “Already there?”

Will shakes his head, before he remembers that Nursey isn't looking at him. He clears his throat. “No, stopped for gas. Another hour or so.”

“Ok.” Nursey curls up tighter and pretends to go back to sleep. Will pulls into a gas station, the brightness odd after so much time spent on the dark highway. He yawns, squints at the tiny grey screen. When he climbs back in the car Nursey's looking at him, the fluorescent lighting picking out the circles under his eyes, turning his skin almost grey. “Remind me to pay you back for the gas.”

“Nursey, it's not -“ Will starts, before being cut off.

“I'm good for it. Just let me, ok?” Nursey sounds cocky, almost belligerent, like he's trying to start a fight. Last year, Will would have fallen for it. But now he knows him well enough to hear the pleading.

He rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

Nursey turns back to the window, but he stops pretending to sleep. Will sneaks glances at him for the rest of the drive, but doesn't give in to the urge to break the heavy silence. If Nursey looks back at him, Will doesn't see it.

They pull up in front of Nursey's brownstone around eleven, Will silently cheering at the parking spot he finds just a few doors down. Nursey's mom is there when they open the door, and she immediately draws Nursey into a hug. Will sees the way he collapses into her and quietly skirts the pair and head upstairs with their duffles. He's still not sure how he feels about her after the summer, but the way Nursey automatically turns to her for comfort helps. He's heading back down when he meets Nursey on the stairs coming up, and changes direction to walk with him.

“Hey, I meant to ask earlier, but how are we playing this?” He asks when they reach Nursey's bedroom door.

Nursey stops and looks at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Are we telling your mom we're dating or am I just a friend?” Will clarifies.

There's a flash of something in Nursey's eyes, but he looks away before Will can figure out what. “I don't care. Whatever you want.”

Will scrubs a hand across his face. “I just - I don't want to make this harder for you. I mean, I know your mom knows you're gay, but I don't know about the rest of your family. I don't even know who else counts as the rest of your family, if you've got grandparents on your dad's side or anything.”

The look Nursey gives him is utterly weary. “No. It's just Mom, really. Or at least, she's the only one I care about. Dad's wife…doesn't count.”

“Oh.” Will says, feeling stupid. He forgets, sometimes, that not everyone comes from a family full of uncles and aunts and cousins. “Then boyfriends. Will your mom care if I sleep in your room?”

Nursey blinks at him. “So you're ok with telling her?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.”

A smile tips up the corner of Nursey's mouth, relieved and grateful all at once. “Mom won't care.”

Will smiles in return. “Good. I already put my stuff in there.”

***

Despite the large double bed, Will still wakes up with Nursey curled up next to him, one arm over his hip, nose buried between Will's shoulder blades. He murmurs when Will starts pulling away, but doesn't wake all the way up, used to Will slipping out of bed or their room early in the morning. Will pulls on some pants and a shirt and heads downstairs. He's restless, almost jittery, the kind of mood that would normally equal a run around the Pond, but he didn't bringing workout clothes, since they weren't planning on being here that long. He decides he'll cook breakfast instead, maybe see if they've got yeast so he can make bread. He makes rolls for Bitty fairly often these days, and finds kneading soothing, despite the worried looks Bitty always gives him when he starts pounding at the dough. 

Nursey's mom, Aida if he's remembering correctly, is in the kitchen when he gets there, drinking coffee, a stack of what looks like contracts in front of her.

“Morning.” He offers as he goes over and opens the fridge.

“Oh.” She looks up. “Good morning. There's coffee in the press if you'd like some.”

“The… press?” Will asks, convinced he's somehow heard wrong.

“The French press. It's on the counter.” She says, pointing at a weird cylindrical thing with a spout. It does seem to be full of a brown liquid that's probably coffee.

“Uh, thanks.” Will says. This does explain why he and Shitty could not find a coffeepot over the summer and had to resort to making Starbucks runs. He pulls eggs and butter out of the fridge and leaves them next to the stove on the way to get a mug and pour himself a cup. It's good coffee. He rummages around in the pantry until he finds some potatoes and an onion, and starts to chop them up. He's just adding them to a pan when Nursey's mom sighs, breaking the quiet of the kitchen. Will looks over to see her rubbing at her eyes, glasses held in her free hand. She reminds him of his mom grading papers.

“More coffee?” He offers without thinking, just like he would for his own mom, who gave Sarah her caffeine addiction. “Or is there something I can help with?”

She waves him off. “No, no, just too long looking at these. I should take a break.”

He nods and turns back to the stove, giving the onions and potatoes a quick stir before going in search of pepper. He lets out a muttered exclamation when he finds it and turns around to see Nursey's mom watching him, assessing. She'd looked at him the same way after Nursey's accident, when she'd come in to the hospital room to find him watching over Nursey as he slept, flipping through the book he'd found on Nursey's bedside table. He hadn't had the courage back then to ask her what the look meant, and he doesn't have it now either. He busies himself at the stove, watching the onions turn translucent and the potatoes soften.

“I get the impression,” She says out of nowhere, “That you don't like me.”

Will manages not to freeze. He's not sure how she figured that out, since they've been in the same room for barely ten minutes and the only things he's said have been polite. “I don't know what you mean, ma'am.”

“It's not so much you as what my son says about you.” She continues as if he hasn't spoken. “Well, that and the fact that you absconded to Maine with him as soon as I left.”

His hand tightens on the spoon. He reminds himself that this is Nursey's mother, that he needs to be nice, can't snap something rude back at her.

“I didn't want to leave, you are aware of that?” She asks, sounding - oddly pleading.

He sighs, gives up staring intently down at the potatoes, reminds himself not to start yelling at any point of what is shaping up to be a painfully horrible conversation, and turns to look at her. “But you still left.”

She smiles, as if she's won something by getting him to speak, and she kind of has. “You know, growing up I was so determined not to end up a stereotype.” 

He blinks at this abrupt topic change. “Ok?”

“I had a ten year plan that boiled down to 'take the business world by storm' and kids weren't a part of that. I was the oldest of three and made extra money in high school babysitting and hated every minute of it. My mom gave up a lot for her kids, and I was - am - grateful but that wasn't going to be me. All I wanted was a career. So I got a scholarship, went away to college - my parents were so proud - and got a job as trade specialist at a corporation that was looking to expand. It wasn't easy - it never is, as a woman, but especially as a black woman - but I'm good at what I do and learned languages like it was breathing and fought until they took me seriously. I was just getting into consulting when I met Adam - Derek's father. He - he liked me because I was smart, not just because I was pretty, and that was new, and heady. It was the sort of relationship where arguing about the stocks counted as flirting, and it was ok if one or both of us was gone on a business trip for several weeks.” She sighed, looking off into the distance. Will wasn't sure if it was with nostalgia or regret. “We'd been dating for over a year when we got drunk at some gala and weren't as careful as we should have been. I got pregnant. Adam liked the idea of kids and family, and we were going to make it work, but he wasn't ready for the reality, and barely lasted six months with a baby. So there I was, the black single mom, left by her boyfriend.” She laughed, before turning abruptly fierce. “Don't think I regret it, because I don't. Derek's one of the best things that ever happened to me. But I had a career I loved, one that I wasn't giving up for anyone, even my child. That doesn't mean I love him any less.”

She paused. “I told myself I'd be working anyway, and that was true, that this way we'd have money, but -“ She shrugged. “Well, sometimes the best lies are the ones we tell ourselves.” 

Will doesn't know what to say to that, to any of it, honestly. He doesn't know if she's looking for forgiveness or just understanding, or if he's willing to give her either. What he tries not to think about is the way he gets it, abstractly at least. Gets the drive to be more, to want more out of life than what your parents had.

“My son loves you.” She says, and that's Nursey's grin on her face. “I don't know if he knows that, or has admitted it yet, but I know him, and it's very obvious. Has been since he called me to rant about his crazy partner and mentioned your 'weirdly adorable freckles'.

Will feels himself blush. “And you're telling me all this because?”

“Derek stopped letting me take care of him as soon as he was allowed to ride the subway by himself. He's smart, and surprisingly unselfish, and he tries to avoid getting in between me and my job. He'll ask if it's important, but his idea of important got skewed somewhere. Maybe that's my fault.” She takes a breath, and her smile this time is sad. “But he lets you take care of him.”

Will's not so sure about that, but he can see why she would think so. Really, he's just bad at leaving well enough alone. And Nursey not taking care of himself drives him crazy. 

“I mostly threaten him into it.” He admits sheepishly.

Nursey's mom laughs, and it's a good laugh, deep-throated and full. “Good for you.”

She turns back to her paperwork. Will turns back to the stove and bites back a curse at how close everything is to burning. He throws in an egg, lets it cook, and splits everything between two plates, one of which he slides in front of Nursey's mom, a sort of peace offering. “We're, um, we're dating, you know. Me and Nursey - Derek, I mean.”

“I'm glad.” She says, smiling up at him. “Be good to him.”

“I'm going to try.” He promises.

A few minutes later Nursey stumbles in to their conversation about the rise of French tech firms and Will stands up to make another round of breakfast potatoes.

***

The funeral's that afternoon, visitation starting at three. Will puts on the suit he wears for game days and watches Nursey get dressed out of the corner of his eye. The third time he fumbles his cuff button, Will walks over and quietly does it for him. Nursey gives him a shaky smile. Will, without speaking, picks up the tie draped over the desk chair and puts it around Nursey's neck, concentrating on the knot so he doesn't have to see Nursey's eyes, the sick, pale look on his face. Nursey shrugs into the jacket and straightens, standing tall and strong, hands shoved into his pockets to hide the way they shake, and Will swallows against the mix of grief and pride that tries to choke him. He wants to kiss him, to pour everything he's feeling into Nursey's mouth, but he can't, isn't sure it'll be welcome. He understands about holding on to composure by your fingernails. In the end, he just follows Nursey down the stairs.

When they get to the funeral home, a brick building on the outskirts of the city, Nursey takes a deep breath before climbing out of the car, his face shuttered and blank. Will and Nursey's mom exchange worried glances. Nursey hadn't spoken the entire drive over, and Will doesn't like it, doesn't like the way he won't engage. He scrambles out of the car and stands next to him, bumping their shoulders, and is surprised when Nursey grabs his hand, the grip bruising. Will squeezes back, relieved and, they walk in still holding hands. 

There's a woman dressed in black standing in the entryway, a little girl next to her, and Will feels Nursey stiffen. 

“Derek.” She says, sounding lost. “I'm so sorry.”

“Hi, Pamela.” He replies, soft and even. The little girl runs over and buries her face against his leg. He puts a hand on her head. Will stops himself from raising an eyebrow. “How's she doing?” 

Pamela sighs. “She's…. taking it hard.”

The girl mutters something into Nursey's hip. “What's that, asfoora?”

She lifts her head. “Daddy's not coming back.”

Will sucks in a breath. This must be Kate, the half-sister Nursey rarely mentions, the one no one knew about until last winter, when he asked the team what would be a good Christmas present for a five-year old.

Nursey pets her hair. “I know.”

“You'll come back right?” She asks, face serious. “Even if Daddy isn't there any more?”

Nursey's face crumples, and he lets go of Will's hand to kneel down in front of Kate and put his hands on her shoulders. “Of course I will. Of course. As long as you want me, I'll come, ok?”

Her eyes are wide and wet. “Promise?” 

“I promise, asfoora.” He says, solemn, and pulls her into a hug. She clings to him as he lets out a shuddering breath. Will aches, recognizing both the language and the sentiment. 

(After the first roadie of the year, lying in a hotel bed sweaty and sated, Nursey had told him, haltingly, about the Arabic he learned from his mother and his Berber grandfather, the language he knew but rarely used, except with his mother or sister. 

“It's - it's my legacy, I guess.” He'd said, Will's head on his chest. “Even if dad's wife decides that she's done playing happy families, or that I'm a bad influence or something, Kate will - no one can take that.” 

Will, imagining what it might be like to lose Sarah, or god forbid Gracie, had surged up to kiss him, trying to erase the bleak note in his voice, sorry he'd asked what language Nursey was using in bed.)

When Nursey stands, she's balanced on his hip, head buried in his shoulder. Will, not sure he's doing the right thing, reaches out and takes back Nursey's free hand. He hears the two women speaking softly behind them, catches the exchange of condolences, but his focus is on the way Nursey's hand grips his, the way he closes his eyes and buries his nose in Kate's hair, just for a moment, before squaring himself and walking into the funeral parlor.

He doesn't let go throughout the visitation, as people come up to offer their sympathy to Nursey and cluck pityingly over Kate, who stays in his arms, sometimes snuffling quietly, the whole time. He shifts his grip occasionally but otherwise seems to ignore her slight weight, and shakes his head when Will offers to hold her for a while. Pamela, standing next to them, doesn't even try, just runs her hand down her daughter's back every once in a while. Will's not sure who the gesture is supposed to comfort. A few people glance down at their joined hands, but he glares at any of them who give them more than a glance, and nobody says anything. 

Kate clings when they walk out to the cars to drive to the gravesite, but Nursey kisses her on the head and murmurs something and she goes, reluctantly, back to her mom. Did you really think you might never see her again, Will wonders as he watches Nursey's eyes track her to the car. There are a lot of things Will wants to know, wants to ask or say on the twenty minute drive to the graveyard, but now is not the time, and Nursey's mom is in the car, so instead he sneaks glances at Nursey in the rearview and stays silent.

When they get there, Nursey's mom almost stays in the car, but climbs out at the desperate look he throws her way. They hang back, Nursey's mom as dry-eyed and painfully blank-faced as her son, as Nursey walks to the hearse, the first pallbearer to touch the casket. Will sees the way he deliberately doesn't react. He thinks, a little hysterically, of movies, of how much easier this seems with a sad soundtrack and some black umbrellas, how then you miss the scraping noise of the casket against the bumper of the hearse, the way it tilts slightly because of the pallbearer's range in heights, the awkward moment of lowering it to the ground, always so smooth and practiced on a screen. One of the men has tears streaming down his face, and Pamela keeps dabbing her face with a Kleenex, but Nursey stays unreadable. Will wonders if he should go up there, put an arm around him, or if it would be too much, or maybe not enough. So, caught in indecision, determined not to make things worse, he stays, leaves Nursey alone at the foot of the grave, not even his sister to hold on to anymore, as a few words are said and the coffin is lowered into the ground, the crowd quiet enough to hear the small thud. Pamela starts sobbing then, loud and messy, joined quickly by Kate's wails. Nursey puts a hand on her shoulder, whispers something to her, and walks over to where his mom and Will are standing.

“Let's go.” He says, and strides over to the car without looking back.

***

They're in Nursey's room that night when the breakdown Will has been secretly expecting finally arrives.

It starts out, like far too many defining events in their relationship, with an argument.

“You can't just not tell the team.” Will says, trying to sound reasonable and not shout. “I get not doing it before the funeral, but they're going to know something's off. Especially Chowder. He's already suspicious.

“Why? Did you tell him?” Nursey asks meanly, walking around the room and throwing random things in his bag.

Which, really, he doesn't even trust Will that far? “No! Because you asked me not to! But he's not stupid. And what the hell are you doing?”

The look Will gets is extremely condescending. “Packing. Obviously.”

Will knows he's overreacting, he does, he just doesn't care. “None of that stuff was in your bag in the first place!”

Nursey shrugs. “Maybe I want to take back some new stuff. Chill, Dex.”

“No, I will not!” Will yells, his automatic response to that phrase, only to feel himself blushing in mortification when he realizes how loud he was.

Normally, this is where Nursey would grin at him, and Will would grumble, and take a few deep breaths, and that would be the end of it. But instead Nursey turns to him, sharp, his expression cold and laconic, and, “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

Wills stumbles back at the venom in Nursey's words. “Trying to be supportive, asshole.”

“Who says I needed you?” Nursey says, still in that quiet, vicious tone. “Did you really think you were helping?”

He knows he should walk out, leave, come back when he's not reeling from hurt and angry with the world, but's he's never been good at leaving well enough alone. “Guess I wasted my time then. Maybe I've always been wasting my time.”

Nursey's expression slips a bit, and Will feels a hint of satisfaction. “It's not like I asked you to. It's not like I asked you to drive down here when I was hurt, or drag me up to Maine, or come down with me to watch as I pretend to grieve my father.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot how much you hate when people actually care!” Will shouts. Then he blinks as something registers. “Wait, pretend?”

“Like I said, I didn't ask you to! And yes, pretend! Why should it matter that he's dead? He left! I didn't see him for real until I was eleven! He only got interested in me after he started another family, and even then it was only sort of!” Nursey's voice breaks. “Why should I care that he's gone? He wasn't really there in the first place.”

Will abruptly loses all desire to argue. “But you said… after Kate. I thought he was trying?”

Nursey lets out a bitter half-laugh. “Only because Pamela wanted him to. She liked the idea of Kate having an older brother. I sort of hate her for that, for making him, because it was easier when he was just gone, but - but this way I get Kate, and she…” Nursey spreads his arms, trying to convey the lack of appropriate words to describe his sister. “I wanted to hate her, you know? From the moment my father told me about her, in one of those horrible stilted twice-a-year phone conversations, because he sounded so happy about the fact that his wife was pregnant. But Pamela kept inviting me over, and at first I went because I was convinced he'd leave her too, and I wanted - I couldn't - and then it was just because she was my sister.” When he looks up, his eyes are wet. “I love her, but he stayed for her. Even though he didn't for me. And that's…hard.”

“Derek….” Will starts, wanting to reach out, to calm the desperation he can hear in Nursey's voice.

”And I wonder, sometimes,” Nursey says, mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “If it's because she's white. If it's because the perfect little white daughter fits better in his life than the bastard black son that he never meant to have.” 

Will's heart fucking breaks. “Derek, that's not - it can't be….“

“How do you know? How the fuck do you know?” Nursey asks him, mouth still twisted.

“I - I don't.” Will finally admits.

“Exactly.” Nursey turns away, and runs his hand across the spines of the books covering the nearby bookshelf, almost a caress. “And now he's dead.”

His hands turn to fists and he rears back and hits the wall, the hollow thump echoing, before starting to cry, whole body shuddering with the force of it. Will slowly, carefully, comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him, one hand reaching out to cover Nursey's fist where it still rests against the wall, pulling it back in towards his body. Will rubs his thumb over Nursey's collarbone, murmurs things he hopes are soothing. Nursey stays stiff against him, shaking, gasping, trying to get himself back together. It takes a while, but when he does, sobs trailing off into gulping breathes, he yanks away from Will's hold.

“Stop it. You can't, you can't keep doing this.” He says, scrubbing at his face.

“Doing what?” Will asks, hurt and confused with his arms still outstretched.

“Just - being there, all the time, when you're not - you're not - “ Nursey trails off, sniffs heavily and wipes his nose with his forearm. “You don't tell anyone about us.”

Will lets his arms drop, backs up a step. “What? I -“

“Your parents, the team,” Nursey says in a horrible monotone. “Nobody knows.”

“I thought we agreed.” Will says slowly, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. He doesn't know where this is coming from. “We're taking it slow.” 

“But we're not, Dex. Not really.” Nursey's over-bright eyes meet Will's, his voice wrecked. “You can't keep doing this and still say we're taking it slow. It's like whiplash and I can't figure out which way is up.”

“So you… don't want to take it slow?” Will tries, not sure what Nursey's asking, not sure what answer he's hoping for.

“It's not - “ Nursey makes an inarticulate sound of frustration. “You do things like hold my hand at my father's funeral but you're not out to the team and you'll sleep in my bed but only when one of us is hurting and I… I can't figure out what you want.”

And Will gets it now, finally, what Nursey's asking, what he wants, because maybe's he's been giving off mixed signals but it's because he's been unsure, and confused, and “You're fucking terrifying, did you know that? I - You're - There's so much tied up in you and I'm - how do I know I'm not getting in too deep too fast? I don't do things by halves, Derek, but I'm - I don't want to fall in love just for you to decide I'm not worth it anymore.”

Nursey's silent. Will starts to pace, from the footboard to the desk and back again, unable to stay still any longer, trying to avoid Nursey's eyes. He can't watch Nursey decide if he's enough.

“You're not the only one that's scared.” Nursey mutters finally, so quiet Will almost doesn't hear him. He stops moving and watches Nursey tangle his hands in his shirt. “I don't know how to not push people away. I'm scared that I'll be too clingy, or needy, or too - something - and you'll decide I'm not worth it anymore.”

The “Oh,” comes out relieved. “ If - if it helps, I like clingy. So don't worry about that. It's - I'm - I'm just not good at initiating. I don't - I'm not good at figuring out when it's ok.”

“You could just ask.” Nursey finally meets his eyes. Will feels his whole body relax.

He huffs, gives Nursey a small smile. “I'm working on it.” 

Nursey mirrors his smile. “Good.”

“Can I?” Will asks, and at Nursey's nod, walks over and puts his arms around him, and they're ok again, maybe better than ok, because now Will knows, and later they can discuss telling the team, and everything's fine. “You can asks for things too, you know.”

“I know.” They stand there for a moment. “Will?”

“Yes?”

“I, um.” Nursey pauses, before asking tentatively, “Can we put our cards on the table?”

“I love you.” Will says immediately, deciding that this time he'll be brave. “And I - I know we're young, but I don't see that changing anytime soon.” He tightens his grip. “And I was going to tell my parents over Christmas.”

Nursey pulls away just enough to kiss him, long and deep, his skin still damp from tears. “Don't let me push you away. Make me be selfish for once and keep you. Please.”

“I'm yours as long as you want me.” Will murmurs into the space between them, before kissing Nursey again, lightly. 

They break apart after a few minutes, Nursey going back to packing, Will pulling out his laptop to try and get some homework done. The silence, for maybe the first time since Nursey's phone rang in the middle of the night, is comfortable, easy. Will focuses on his coding for a while, only drawn out by Nursey's quiet “Hey.”

“One sec.” Will says, finishing up the line of code well enough that he won't be screwed when he comes back to it. “What's up?”

“Thank you. For coming here with me, and everything else.” Nursey says, a book in one hand. He tosses it in his duffle before he continues. “I don't - this was harder than I thought it would be. So, thanks.”

“You don't -“ Will shakes his head, starts over. “If you need me, I'll be there. Even when you don't think you need anyone. Especially when you don't think you need anyone.”

“Me too.” Nursey pauses. “You know that, right? You've been dealing with my shit all freaking year it feels like, and I just want to make sure - “ 

“Derek.” Will stops him. “I know. It's been a hard few months, for both of us, and with your dad… well, have I said I'm sorry yet?”

“I don't know. Doesn't really matter.” Nursey laughs, a little half-thing. “It's more…regret than grief, where he's concerned. At least for now.”

“Doesn't mean it's not hard.” Will points out.

“Yeah.” Nursey throws a few more books in his bag. Will looks at his computer, decides he's done for the night, and puts it away. It's been a long day, and the motivation is gone. He's leafing through the well-thumbed copy of Brutal Imagination that's migrated to the bed at some point when Nursey crawls in beside him.

“I'm starting to think you just leave books of poetry in your wake.” Will tells him before Nursey leans over and in one move plucks the book out of his hand and fits their lips together. Will sinks into the bed and lets Nursey explore his mouth, runs his hands up Nursey's sides, across his back, rucking up his shirt a little in the process so he can get skin under his fingers. He slides a thumb across the scar on his belly, healed but still raised enough to feel. This is good, right, Nursey's hands on his cheek, his shoulder, their tongues tangling together.

Nursey breaks away with a gasp, cups his face in both hands, his eyes bright and a little desperate. “I love you. Don't leave.”

“I'm here.” Will whispers. “I'm here.”

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Death of a parent (Nursey's dad dies), discussions of parental abandonment (once again, Nursey's dad.)
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos/comments/etc. on this series, they're much appreciated!


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